GAGE
We packup the two houses, load up the remaining firewood and set out for home shortly after four. I offer Iris a ride home, and she accepts since she came with Joy, who’s heading for dinner at her parents’ home in Annapolis. Everyone else is in other cars, which leaves us a couple of hours alone together when we’re not naked and fucking like rabbits who’ve been let out of solitary confinement.
That thought draws a grunt of laughter from me.
“What’s so funny?”
“I was thinking how we fucked like bunnies who’ve been let out of solitary.”
She groans even as she laughs. “I guess we sort of did.”
“Still no regrets?”
“Nope. You?”
“Nope.”
“Guilt?” she asks.
“A little, but I’m told that’s to be expected.”
“That never really goes away. When you’re as married as we were, you’ll always feel like you’re cheating when you’re with someone else that way.”
“I guess.”
“You didn’t do anything wrong, Gage. Tell me you know that.”
“My head knows that. My heart is another story.”
“Tell your heart to get on board the life-goes-on train.”
“It’s trying. I hear that’s a process.”
“It’s a work in progress forever. No avoiding it.” She glances over at me. “Your post today was really special.”
I wrote about how a spark of joy snuck into the gloom this weekend and what a shock it was to experience that after so long without it. “I’m glad you liked it.”
“I’m glad you felt it. And if I was in any way responsible—”
“You were entirely responsible.”
“Oh. Wow. Well, it’s great I could do that for you.”
“Did I do any of that for you?”
“Absolutely. I enjoyed myself more this weekend than I have since Mike died, and that was mostly thanks to you and our adjoining bedrooms.”
Last night, I tiptoed naked into her room and pretended to get into the wrong bed.
“The adjoining rooms were hella convenient, huh?”
“Sure were. I never would’ve had the guts if I’d had to sneak into your room where someone might’ve seen me.”
“Is that a confession that Friday night’s events were intentional?”
“Absolutely not. That was an honest mistake.”
“Made while naked.”